The Field
by Retrolex
Summary: Ratchet's job is never easy. Sometimes the other Autobots don't make it any easier for him.


Even as the missiles unleashed from the Decepticon jets screamed into the cliff face at our backs, showering us in an explosive spray of dust and grit, I still couldn't help but think that, as an old warrier I knew would point out with boisterous battle glee, we were 'seriously in the slag now.'

"I think we might be in some trouble," I said.

I cowered down behind a pile of rocky debris, my hands over my head. Rock fragments peppered into my back like hail. I let out a yelp when a chunk of shrapnel cracked into my shoulder. The impact tremor rattled me straight to the core, and for a couple seconds I saw everything around me - the ground, the cliff, the angry Autobot I was sprawled on - in wobbly vision while my optic systems fought to clear.

"You think?" the red minibot bawled.

I squinted at him in apology. I could barely make out his face for the thick dust blowing between us, despite the fact that we'd both ducked for cover when the missiles hit and were now awkwardly tangled together, practically nose to nose.

"Brilliant observation, buddy!" the little red terror continued, his optics burning. "Come on, get offa me! We can't just sit here and take this lying down!"

"I can't move," I said.

And I was trying hard to, I assure you. Being tossed on top of an overzealous freedom fighter is no fun. But after the hit I'd taken my entire upper torso felt like lead. Disorientation was settling in. I'm certainly not a front-line warrior, and I'm ashamed to admit that this baptism of fire was getting me rattled.

A pair of jets streaked overhead and, in unison, executed a perfect banking turn that could only bode ill. I fell still and waited uneasily. Sure enough, after a moment of silence a great cloud of rubble exploded immediately to our left. Mingled with the blast was a lot of yelling and swearing.

Against all logic, the explosion only seemed to galvanize Cliffjumper.

"Up!" he shouted. "Move! You're right on my gun arm!"

"Am I the only one who made a mental note of how close that was?" I said.

"They get a lost worse than that, Doc. _Getoff!_"

I sat up. A laser shot sliced through the air beside my face, lighting up my optics with a flash of violet. I sat back down.

"I'm no military tactician in any sense of the word, but I think we're pinned down," I said, shaken.

"Oh pfft. That's Prowl talk."

"We're completely surrounded and I can't see the rest of the Autobots and there are all these Decepticons _shooting _at us! In my book this is a situation that fits nicely into the bad crap category!"

The minibot's expression spoke eloquently of his warrior disgust at my healthy civilian desire to live. "Fine. You can sit here and hide all you want, but _me_, I'm outta here."

Professional alarm instantly overcame my fear.

"You most certainly are not!" I said, and grappled for his arms. "You're injured!"

And he was, too; an early blast had nearly torn him in half at the waist. The sparking gash needed immediate repair, and I was the only one on the field who could provide it. Obviously I was acting with his well-being in mind. I certainly wasn't trying to wrestle him down so that I wouldn't be left on my own on the battlefield and thus make a lonely corpse for Optimus to find.

"Nuts to that," my patient said. "It's only a surface wound. Stop that! Get _offa _me!"

"Let me fix you!"

"Don't you medics have anything better to do?!"

I felt one of his feet connect with my lower abdomen as he booted me in the gut. Now, I'm not a violent person by nature. Despite my reputation I'm not all that prone to fits of bad temper. I'll thank you to know I have an excellent bedside manner. But at that moment in time, with the sky alive with lethal white rockets and sizzling lines of tracer fire, I actually felt an overpowering urge to hit him in the face.

We fought. Lots of kicking and swearing. The little rat almost had me fended off when the wind shifted, the dust blew madly, and the air went _thump_.

I froze. That was all the distraction Cliffjumper needed to throw me aside. He rolled away and staggered to his feet, dirt streaming off his back in dusty ribbons.

"Ha!" he shouted. "Nice try, Ratchet, but you aren't keeping this Autobot down! Now, if you'll excuse me, I think it's about time I got out there with the rest of the guys and popped the freshness seal on a can of buttkick _what the hell is that?_"

The blue sky was vibrating, shaking the dust in the air. It whipped about in furious dervishes, while the ground rumbled at the thunder in the distance. I could feel it beneath my feet, through my legs.

Cliffjumper stared into the sky.

"Holy," he said. "Now that sounds like the Aerialbots."

I knew it already. Nothing shakes the air quite like a powerful jet engine as it tears apart the sky.

"I think the cavalry's on its way," I said.

"I'll say," said Cliffjumper. Then his face screwed up crossly. "Oh, just _great_! Those punks! No way am I gonna let a bunch of hotshot fliers hog all the fun around here!"

"Fun?! We're pinned smack in the middle of a nest of Decepticon jets. Decepticons, I might add, that Silverbolt and his crew will likely be bombing in two minutes time. I think there is a blast radius we need to be concerned about right now."

"Nuts to that, Doc!"

Good to see the Autobot survival instinct is still alive and well.

It didn't seem likely I would be able to persuade him to cower with me, not when there were Decepticons to shoot and Aerialbots to show up. So instead I crawled out from cover for as long as it took to grab hold of one of his legs and yank hard. With a startled yell the minibot fell flat on his face. As soon as he hit the ground I dragged him behind my pile of rocks. Then I sat on the small of his back.

"Because it's for your own good, Cliffjumper, that's why," I growled when the yelling started. "Because for some reason I accepted a duty to keep as many of you ingrates alive as possible."

His reply was thankfully muffled. He tried to kick me off, but I'm three times the size of him and outweigh him by several tons easily.

"Primus, you're an unholy pain in the ass sometimes!" I hollered, my temper finally snapping. "Please excuse my extremely poor choice of words! What the hell is wrong with you? Not only are you badly injured, but in about ten seconds the Aerialbots will arrive and it's going to go _insane _out there! Don't you ever stop to listen to that nagging little voice of common sense in situations like this?"

Cliffjumper lifted his head, spat out a mouthful of dirt and said, "What, Prowl?"

I opened my mouth for a scathing reply, but whatever it was I said was drowned out by what sounded like the sky exploding.

I hurled myself to the ground beside Cliffjumper. Debris showered over us both. Seconds later I heard bellowing engines and the noisy chatter of an active laser rifle. Shadows flitted over us, and I peered up from my outflung arm just in time to spot two jets racing directly overhead, a pitch black jet hotly pursued by a dirty white one. Noses up, they skimmed over the edge of the cliff and out of sight, although I could still hear the sound of the white jet's lasers firing for a long time afterwards.

The Aerialbots had arrived. Beautiful timing. I pushed up onto my hands and knees and risked a glance around the edge of the rock pile. Freshly energised and spoiling for a fight, our air cavalry was having quite a time. In perfect tandem Slingshot and Skydive rolled over into a spectacular two-ship dive, their wingtips almost brushing as they streaked towards the earth and spat gunfire into a pack of startled Decepticons.

Meanwhile, not far away, Silverbolt had caught a grounded Dirge completely by surprise. Flying four meters above the mesa, he rammed into the bastard nose-first without slowing down once. After tracing a marvelous parabola through the air Dirge smashed into the ground again so hard he cartwheeled uncontrollably before crashing into a crater. Now greatly amused I watched as Sideswipe and Brawn, both of them dented and scoured, broke from cover to descend upon the half-conscious Decepticon with a vengeance. Shortly after a battered Dirge clawed up into flight to escape further mauling.

The Decepticons may have had the Autobots up against the ropes a minute ago, but the ambush had caught them completely off guard. Medic or not, I have to admit that the sight of our enemies being harried by the spruce and aggressive Aerialbot team was very sweet indeed. A loud cheer to my left announced that an indomitable Cliffjumper was enjoying it as well. He jumped from foot to foot and shook his rifle over his head.

All at once the 'Cons seemed to come to the decision that enough was enough. The jets fled into the sky, blasting off over the mesa. Autobot lasers gave them a parting farewell, until they were nothing more than smoke and glinting dots of light on the horizon.

Ahh, good times. I stood up, knees creaking, and breathed in deeply, savouring the opportunity to finally stretch my legs without the risk of getting my head shot off.

The battle was over. But now it was my turn to leap into action.

I turned to Cliffjumper. "Are you going to be all right here if I leave you for a couple minutes to see who needs medical assistance?"

He lowered his rifle and looked at me indignantly.

"Of course I will," he said, while sparks fizzled from the gash in his side. "I already told you, I'm perfectly fine! Man, you medics. Go on, go pick on some other poor sucker and leave me alone for ten minutes, will you?"

I gave him a sour look but let the comment slide. You see? My temper isn't all that bad.

Without further word I checked that my field kit was still clipped to my back, then took off across the battlefield. Pits and craters pockmarked the desert floor, while stubs of burnt scrub smouldered fitfully. Ash drifted in the air, mingled with a pall of grey smoke. I jogged through it, straining to catch sight of a friendly face. And I prayed, please, let the wounded be minimal this time. Please, please.

I pray that after every battle. Never helps.

A dark shape in the haze. Trailbreaker. He sat heavily on the ground with his gun beside him and fingered a nasty tear in his leg. His black frame was nearly white with dust.

"Naw, I can wait," he said, waving me off when I veered over. "One just managed to sneak past my shield, that's all. But if you're looking for someone to help I'd go take a gander at Slingshot. He looked pretty sorry the last time I saw him, the crazy punk."

"You sure?" I said.

"Yeah, I'm good for now. I think Sling needs attention more than I do."

Oh, Trailbreaker. You make life so easy for me.

Back into the smoke. It whirled around me, coating vents and filters with a fine layer of dust. I coughed and trudged on. Everything stank like burnt electrical wiring. I hate that smell.

And then, blessedly, the smoke parted. Just like that, like a curtain, revealing battered Autobots milling about on the other side. I greeted their hails with a curt nod and jogged straight towards the Aerialbots, who had all gone robot and were standing in a half-circle. Look at all those worried faces.

Slingshot was indeed in sorry shape. He sat forlornly on the ground, surrounded by his teammates, his knees drawn up to his chest in an attempt to shift weight off his mangled back. Pain and frustration showed in his optics as he glowered at my approach.

"It's not as bad as it looks," he said.

Why do they always say that. _Whyyy_.

I gently brushed aside Skydive and Air Raid and crouched beside him. Surprisingly, the young Aerialbot let me grasp him by the shoulder and turn him around to examine his back; either pain or macho warrior posturing or my reputation for being a hardass kept him silent. I professionally suspected the first, cynically expected the second, and rather smugly imagined the third.

"That's good to hear, because from where I'm sitting it looks awful," I said, eyeing the shredded remains of his wings and vertical stabilizer. I lightly ran my fingers over the damage and touched red hydraulic fluid. Huh. Nicked lines, seeping but not leaking freely. Out here on the field I couldn't fully gauge just how bad it was, but the initial diagnostic didn't look promising.

"I can walk it off. Self-repair is already kicking in anyway."

"Actually, I was just thinking to myself that if I don't get these ruptured hydraulic lines sealed, walking is about the only thing you're going to be able to do in the near future. Do you know what a loss of hydraulic pressure means, Slingshot? It will take transformation straight off your list of options, that's what. So please. Go ahead and walk it off. Walk all the way back to the Ark. Hallucinate in the desert, have a spirit journey. Talk to coyotes. Primus knows I _love _it when you people make my job that much easier. So thank you, Slingshot. Thank you, thank you, thank you."

He glared.

Air Raid and Skydive exchanged grins over his head. They reached down and caught their wounded teammate beneath his arms and hauled him onto his feet. Slingshot hung limp between them and continued to favour me with his nastiest look, which I charitably ignored.

"Come on," I said as I rose to my feet, brushing off dust. "I'll transform, and you two load him in. Let's move fast. It looks as though he's not the only one who's going to need a lift back."

"Yes, sir," said Silverbolt.

"Maybe you should take care of your other patient first, Doc," said Slingshot with a snigger.

I stared at him blankly until it clicked. I spun around. Cliffjumper now lay flat on his back where I'd left him. He wasn't moving.

"For the love of Mike!" I thundered. "Oh, what glorious timing is this? I warned that little terror he was badly injured. I _warned _him! God, is he in for it when I get him online again. Slingshot, it looks like you just lucked out, because Cliffjumper appears to have shot ahead of you on the priority list."

"We'll take Slingshot straight back to Medical for you, sir, don't worry about that," said Silverbolt.

"Traitor," muttered Slingshot.

"Thanks," I said. Even we medics have our own perils to face. Like exhausting back-to-back shifts in Emergency. I entertained the notion of inflicting them on an unsuspecting Wheeljack when we returned to the Ark. Primus knew I could use all the help I could get, and Wheeljack's a steady hand with a laser scalpel. I also know for a fact that there isn't anywhere in the Ark he can hide from me, and that I was desperate enough for an extra set of hands that I would run him down without remorse if he chose to make a run for it. "I appreciate it."

But as I walked back to Cliffjumper I stopped beside Slingshot and clapped a hand over his shoulder. I grinned when his eyes met mine.

"An arc welder and I will be seeing you _real _soon, buddy," I said.

The sight of him flinching back was the second most beautiful thing I'd seen all day.


End file.
